Chapter 21: Great Yellow Village (Revised)

Three years ago, Ling Chi’s family suffered a great misfortune, prompting him to seek martial arts training in Crane County. It has only been a little over three years since then. Now, he has already reached the fifth level of the Meridian Opening Realm. Even if he were at the seventh or eighth level, he would still be formidable enough to hold his own in battle. His mastery of thunder techniques is unfathomable. Someone like him—how could you dare to flirt with a village girl right before his eyes? It’s practically courting death.

Madam Cui herself felt her son had narrowly escaped with his life. In her fury, she grabbed Cui Chan by the ear and twisted hard, scolding, “You’ll kneel again tomorrow. Once you’ve tidied yourself up, go and offer your apology.”

Ginkgo Lane, under a bright moon.

Ling Chi was standing on his hands in the courtyard, his legs clamped around a heavy stone. His arm muscles bulged, sweat dripping from his hair onto the ground below. Bathed in the sacred moonlight, his sweat-soaked body resembled a statue—robust and powerful enough that, were any matron to glimpse him, she might instinctively tighten her thighs.

At dawn the next day, Ling Chi rose early, packed his belongings with simple efficiency, ate breakfast, and practiced a set of blade techniques before stopping. Just as he finished tidying up, a knock sounded at the gate.

Ling Chi opened the gate to find a poised, elegant woman accompanied by a young man. Ah, wasn’t this the green-robed youth from last night’s red-and-green duo?

“Madam, I am the Constable of Willow Town under the Jing’an Bureau. What brings you here so early?” Ling Chi asked, his gaze clear.

“Constable Ling, I am Cui Chan’s mother, Madam Cui. My son behaved poorly after drinking yesterday, so I’ve brought him to apologize to you,” she replied humbly, with evident remorse.

Ling Chi, seeing them blocked at the entrance, had no choice but to let them in. Though the courtyard was modest, it was neat and orderly. He invited them to sit.

Madam Cui looked at Ling Chi—lips red, teeth white, handsome and carefree—and then at her son, who hunched like a quail, recalling his deeds from last night. She glared fiercely at Cui Chan again.

Cui Chan dared not meet Ling Chi’s eyes. The imprint of a slap still lingered on his face. Ling Chi had restrained his strength; otherwise, a single blow could have killed him. Now, his face was awash with shame.

“Madam Cui, your son’s drunken behavior last night was indeed wrong, but I’ve already punished him. There’s no need for you to make this special trip. Still, your son is young; places of ill repute are best avoided,” Ling Chi advised.

Ling Chi continued to admonish the green-robed youth.

“You’re right, Constable Ling. My husband and I disciplined him last night. Since it’s his first offense, I’ve come in person, thick-skinned, to ask for your forgiveness,” Madam Cui replied, appearing cultured and reasonable. Ling Chi, not wanting to pursue the matter further, nodded—after all, he had already let the incident pass.

“Madam Cui, rest assured. Yesterday’s punishment was a warning. Since I let him go, the matter is settled. I only hope he won’t repeat such behavior,” Ling Chi said, looking at Cui Chan.

Madam Cui pinched her son, prompting him to stand and bow in apology. “Thank you, Constable Ling, for your leniency. I was reckless last night; please accept my apology.”

“It’s behind us now. I hope you’ll learn from this and devote yourself to your studies.”

“Madam Cui, I must depart for Willow Town today to assume my post, so I won’t keep you,” Ling Chi said kindly.

Madam Cui quickly instructed her servant to bring several gifts from the carriage. Ling Chi tried to refuse but had to accept them in the end.

After this exchange, the carriage he had hired arrived, and Madam Cui took her son and departed.

Ling Chi set off, his servant carrying the boxes, while he rode the large black horse his master had given him.

The journey was uneventful, heading straight for Willow Town.

After the recent calamity, Willow Town was a wasteland, unlikely to see many inhabitants for some time. The county office had arranged for militia and laborers to collect and burn the corpses. The county was recruiting refugees to repopulate the town; many were coming, for hunger makes ghosts seem trivial.

Ling Chi found the county officials, arranged for a place to stay, tidied up briefly, and rode out again.

The town was uninhabitable. Ling Chi decided to visit the villages nearby, seeking a scenic spot to settle down and focus on his cultivation for a while.

There were five villages beneath Willow Town: Great Yellow Village, Small Yellow Village, Pear Blossom Gully, Stone Ox Village, and Plum Village.

Of these, Great Yellow Village was the largest and most populous. Ling Chi resolved to go there. After notifying the town officials, he set out on horseback.

The three-foot-wide dirt road wound like a muddy dragon. Ling Chi let the horse amble along, unconcerned even if it stopped to nibble leaves by the roadside.

The chirping insects and birds of the wild relaxed him. He occasionally used his short blade to clear obstructing branches as sunlight filtered through, painting colorful patterns on the ground.

Turning a corner, the view opened wide. Fertile fields stretched out, crisscrossed by paths.

Great Yellow Village had a population of about two hundred households, five or six hundred people. It was midday, and smoke curled from every home.

At the village entrance, several children played. Ling Chi led his horse into the village; the bold ones stared, while the timid ones pondered how to escape.

“Hey, little ones, where’s your village chief? Anyone want to lead me to him? I’ll reward you with a copper coin,” Ling Chi called out cheerfully.

To his surprise, the children scattered. Ling Chi chuckled and continued his leisurely stroll.

A robust man, eight feet tall, holding a pitchfork, blocked his way.

“I am Huang Feihu. May I ask what business brings you to Great Yellow Village, young man?”

The man eyed the tall, handsome stranger warily. Storybooks said pretty boys always seduced married women, which was hardly welcome.

“I am Ling Chi, Constable of Willow Town under the Jing’an Bureau, newly appointed and here to inspect. The Jing’an Bureau specializes in slaying demons, hunting criminals, and maintaining order. Where is your village chief?”

Ling Chi adopted a stern expression, his official robes lending him an air of authority.

“The chief is injured and recuperating at home. I’ll take you to him.” Though unfamiliar with the Jing’an Bureau, the youth seemed genuine.

They walked side by side. Ling Chi, at seven feet three inches, was slightly shorter than Huang Feihu.

“What’s going on in the village? Several people have died, haven’t they? I noticed mourning cloth hung at many doors,” Ling Chi asked, puzzled.

Huang Feihu hesitated before answering, “Half a month ago, Plum Village fought with us over water, and it turned violent. We lost three, they lost five. Our patriarch, who is also the chief, was injured.”

No wonder. Rural water disputes are fierce, for it’s not just water but the year’s fate at stake. Whether crops prosper depends on who secures the water, and neighbors often become enemies for life over such quarrels.

He continued, “Strange things have happened lately. At night, there are often noises, but we never find anyone. Livestock have been found dead, their bodies oddly desiccated, like dried bones.”